The Lovers’ Chronicle 23 March – never forget – art by J. C. Leyendecker, Josef Čapek & Juan Gris

Dear Zazie,  Here is today’s Lovers’ Chronicle from Mac Tag.  Who is the someone you will never forget you?  Rhett

The Lovers’ Chronicle

Dear Muse,

not forgotten dream…
-At a family cemetery on a ranch on the High Plains;
Is it always this windy here, asks the winsome redhead
pretty much, he replies
Do you know why we’re here
i wrote a story in verse eleven years ago about a woman mournin’ the death of her love, i think we are here to see the last part of the story
-They watch a woman come through the gate
and walk up to a freshly covered mound of dirt,
she takes an envelope out of her pocket and kneels 
beside the mound, her tears falling on the dirt
as she covers the words she has written for him
and the wind carries her cries across the canyon;
Damn that’s sad, says the redhead, who is she
the love i never had
And what’s in the letter
the things that were never said
The things we say to each
that we will not forget

© copyright 2024 mac tag/cowboycoleridge all rights reserved

this is one of my favorite stories
“Do tell”
the idea came from watchin’
the Dallas episode when JR died
“Never saw it”
you and most everyone else
but i enjoyed that silly series
“Bet you never thought
you’d get a poem out of it”
oh heck no
“So watching it paid off”
indeed, but let’s delay
the never forget scenario
as long as we can

© copyright 2023 mac tag/cowboycoleridge all rights reserved

“When the Sicilians wish you ‘Cent’anni’, it means ‘for long life’ … and a Sicilian never forgets and they never forgive.” 

i was raised by someone with Scot-Irish-Dutch ancestry but she might as well have been full blooded Sicilian because that is what she taught me, by word and deed; now, there are a couple of things i try never to do; shirk responsibility and dwell on the past, but when laid in front of me, i will pick it up, though today i do so through a very different lense, acquired from the healin’ process and from the influence of you and not forgettin’ what matters

© copyright 2022.2024 mac tag/cowboycoleridge all rights reserved

written as if foreseen
that we are each other
what was thought too late,
now is the time to get it right

hold on to these feelin’s
now that you and i are here
and why we will know
and let go
what was kept hidden

our moments together
we will keep and surrender
not forgotten

© copyright 2021 mac tag/cowboy coleridge all rights reserved

Pale Love, Pale Rider

the music begins

the dance goes like this;
closed position,
higher in the elbows,
tone in the arms
and constant connection
through the body

for now,
we are one, and

just for this night
we are in Argentina

the rhythm is steady as
a pulse, sensuous

somethin’ we carry with us
never forget

© copyright 2020 mac tag/cowboy coleridge all rights reserved

risin’ the next mornin’, tired, hungover,
with a strong cup of coffee, drivin’ south,
on the caliche road, over the cattle guard,
turnin’ left where tire tracks cut their way
across the pasture, stoppin’ at the gate

with determined purpose, as if
any hesitation could stop this…
out of the truck, through the gate,
past the metal angel statue, heart
poundin’, kneelin’ in the dirt coverin’
the words written and the cold wind
carried the cries across the canyon

© copyright 2019 mac tag/cowboy coleridge all rights reserved

the day we met
the lunches
the parties
the laughs
the hugs
the opera
i gave you
what we created
our shared yearnin’
our wishes and dreams

never forget

© copyright 2018 mac tag/cowboy coleridge all rights reserved

never fergit…
if you think
you have it all
figured out,
that sumbitch
can come un-figured

© copyright 2017 mac tag/cowboy coleridge all rights reserved

Never Forget

She hesitated, then opened the door
The room was simple, orderly, tasteful;
a bed, desk, bookcase, table, leather chairs
She stood for a moment, taking it in

The strong presence and the familiar scents;
sandalwood, cedar, leather, crisp linen
She opened the closet, turned on the light
Inside; pairs of well polished cowboy boots,
custom cowboy hats, suits, starched jeans and shirts
She reached for a starched shirt and held it close
And really fought to hold her composure
Then, at the bookcase, a picture amidst
poetry books and leather bound journals
A picture of them; younger and happy
She took it and sat down at the table
Her emotions coming apart, she placed
the picture next to a sealed envelope
with her name written in his hand writing
Then, she looked at the crystal decanter,
engraved with his initials, almost full
of what looked like, no doubt, bourbon
probably his preferred single barrel
Suddenly, she really needed a drink
though she had not had a whisky in years
Hands shaking, she poured from the decanter
slowly into a matching crystal glass
Before she could stop, she had a small sip
The sweet, creamy burn jolted her senses
Then she had another and another
With her newfound amber colored courage
she rapidly opened the envelope,
took out the enclosed letter and read it
Then finally, the emotions poured out
All the pain and the said and unsaid words
All of the tears, all of the memories
All of the years, the good times, the bad times
She let it all go and it all came out

She tried to sleep that first night in his bed
Rising the next morning, tired, hungover,
with a strong cup of coffee, she drove south,
down the dirt road, over the cattle guard,
turned left where tire tracks cut their way across
the pasture and stopped at the metal gate
Then with a determined purpose, as if
any hesitation would prevent her
from doing what she knew she had to do:
out of the truck, opened the gate, walked through,
past the silver, metal angel statue,
stopped, and stared at the freshly covered ground
Heart pounding, out of a pocket she took
an envelope and kneeled beside the mound
Her tears fell on the dirt as she covered
the words she had written for him
And the wind carried her cries

across the canyon

© 2013 mac tag/Cowboy Coleridge. All rights reserved

The Song of the Day is “Never Forget” by Lena Katina.  We do not own the rights to this song.  All rights reserved by the rightful owner.  No copyright infringement intended.

Today is the birthday of J. C. Leyendecker (Joseph Christian Leyendecker; Montabaur, Rhine Province, German Empire; March 23, 1874 – July 25, 1951 New Rochelle, New York); prominent freelance commercial artist. He was active between 1895 and 1951 producing drawings and paintings for hundreds of posters, books, advertisements, and magazine covers and stories. Perhaps best known for his 80 covers for Collier’s Weekly, 322 covers for The Saturday Evening Post, and advertising illustrations for B. Kuppenheimer men’s clothing and Arrow brand shirts and detachable collars.
Leyendecker never married. He lived with model Charles A. Beach, for most of his adult life (1903–1951). Beach was Leyendecker’s studio manager.

Gallery

Today is the birthday of Josef Čapek (Hronov, Bohemia (Austria-Hungary, later Czechoslovakia, now the Czech Republic); 23 March 1887 – April 1945 Bergen-Belsen concentration camp); artist who was best known as a painter, but who was also noted as a writer and a poet. He invented the word robot, which was introduced into literature by his brother, Karel Čapek.

Due to his critical attitude towards national socialism and Adolf Hitler, he was arrested after the German invasion of Czechoslovakia in 1939. He wrote Poems from a Concentration Camp in the Bergen-Belsen concentration camp, where he died in 1945. In June 1945 Rudolf Margolius, accompanied by Čapek’s wife Jarmila Čapková, went to Bergen-Belsen to search for him. His remains were never found. In 1948 the court officially set the date of his death as 30 April 1947.

Gallery

Juan Gris

And today is the birthday of Juan Gris (José Victoriano (Carmelo Carlos) González-Pérez; Madrid; March 23, 1887 – May 11, 1927 Boulogne-sur-Seine); painter and sculptor born in Madrid who lived and worked in France most of his life. Closely connected to the innovative artistic genre Cubism, his works are among the movement’s most distinctive.

After October 1925, Gris was frequently ill with bouts of uremia and cardiac problems. He died of renal failure at the age of 40, leaving a wife, Josette, and a son, Georges.

Gallery 

thanks for stoppin’ by y’all

mac tag